


Boggart

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know they've all got to be messed up by the war, but especially Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

It had taken Narcissa Malfoy three weeks to talk Draco into leaving the Manor this time.  This was one of the longer stretches he had stayed in, but it wasn’t all that unusual. Since the end of the war he had withdrawn from everything.  He managed their business affairs from his father’s study or worked in the Manor's potions lab, leaving only rarely for meetings and conducting most of his work via owl or floo. He no longer spoke to friends, no longer enjoyed going out, no longer smiled or laughed.

She worried terribly that he would never again be the happy boy she remembered, the boy she hadn’t seen since she took him to platform nine and three-quarters and he left for Hogwarts for the first time. She constantly questioned her decision to send him to the closer school, wondering if he could have been safer at Durmstrang, wondering if her need to keep him close at Hogwarts was the cause of all of his isolation now.

Narcissa was relieved that her son was finally out of the Manor today as she had visitors.  She read the letter from Hermione Granger over a hundred times before she had replied.  As much as she wanted to deny the girl’s request to visit the manor, she couldn’t.  Narcissa was also hoping to learn from Miss Granger’s attempts to find closure, thinking that maybe it would direct her in ways to help Draco.

“Mrs Malfoy, I’m not sure if you want to be present for this.  It will likely be . . . upsetting for you.  I, Harry and I, we’ve brought a boggart in the trunk, and . . .” Hermione was trying to balance being a polite guest while in someone’s home with the fact that she had been tortured in the next room by her hostess’s sister.  She took a deep breath and dove in. “To be perfectly blunt Mrs Malfoy, my boggart is your sister.”

“Miss Granger, Perhaps I should show you and Mr Potter into the great hall and then leave you to your . . . endeavors. You can return here to the library once you’ve finished.”

Hermione’s shoulders released in relief, “Yes, thank you Mrs Malfoy.”

As Narcissa showed Harry and Hermione to the great hall no one heard the floo in the study or noticed Draco’s return to the Manor. From the study Draco walked to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, absorbed in reviewing the latest prospectus from the potions division as he went.

Narcissa left Harry and Hermione in the great hall and was making her way back to the library to write some notes on what she had gleaned of Miss Granger’s attempts to deal with her experiences in the war. She wasn’t sure how she would approach the subject with him, but she had a feeling that if Draco could pursue a similar course of action in disarming some of the horrors he saw as a result of the war that he might regain the pieces of himself he seemed to have lost.

Harry had just released the boggart in front of Hermione and stepped back at the same time Draco Malfoy came through the rear entrance to cut through the great hall on his way back to his study.  He stared, frozen by the nightmare before him. Hermione Granger stood facing his Aunt Bellatrix.  The parchment Draco had been reading dropped to the floor as did the cup and saucer he had been carrying.  The sound as the fine china shattered echoed off of the walls.

“NO!” Draco drew his wand and practically flew across the hall, he shoved a stunned Hermione behind him as his mad aunt laughed. Harry tried to step in but Draco thrust Hermione towards him and they both fell over, “Get her out of here, Potter!”

Narcissa Malfoy came running through the main doors.  She heard her son’s raised voice before she made it back to the library and she raced into the great hall in a panic, “Draco, all you alright?!”

“No, No, Mother, Aunt Bella said, she said, she's going to give her to Greyback, and he’ll,” he broke down sobbing, almost incoherent, “You can’t let them, we have to save her Mother, we have to save her.” He had tears streaming down his face.  The Boggart cackled as he went to his knees before it and lowered his head.  He roughly pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing the milky white skin of his lean chest and back, both crisscrossed with shiny lines of scar tissue.  He was crying hard and his voice broke as he said, “I know the punishment.”

Harry jumped in front of Malfoy and the boggart changed, Bellatrix Lestrange became a Dementor as Harry flicked his wand and said “Riddikulus.” A large pink bubble appeared at the Dementor’s mouth before gum exploded over its robes and it tripped backwards.  Harry got it back into the trunk and slammed the lid shut.

Draco was kneeling on the floor crying, still seemingly unaware of the boggart.  Hermione felt her heart breaking as she slid herself to his side and put her hand tentatively on his shoulder. A shuddering breath wracked his entire body. He looked up at Harry’s stunned face, his mother on her knees a few feet from them crying, he swung his gaze to Hermione’s kind brown eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” she said.  She rubbed his shoulder and pulled him closer. His arms fell around her, his touch hesitant, almost like he thought she’ll disappear and his arms would sink through air.  His hands finally grip her, his arms tightening, squeezing her, pulling her against him.  He was shaking violently as he continued sobbing, burying his face in her hair.

“I’m sorry, I won’t let them, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, won’t let them get you,” He repeated as Hermione soothed him. Narcissa moved to them and stroked the back of Draco’s head over his soft hair. She looked at her son’s back, at the marks crossing his once perfect skin.  “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” she repeated through her tears as she knelt at his side.

 


	2. two

Hermione had frequent nightmares about her first visit to Malfoy Manor. The nightmares were so real, and so terrifying, that for a long time they held her back in all of the other areas of her life. She began to slowly push everyone away, unsure of how to deal with her pain and fear she lashed out at anyone who made her feel anything.

It was only because Harry, Ron, and Ginny were so bloody stubborn that for once in her life she failed.  She couldn’t push them away because they wouldn’t allow it.  Ginny was the one who finally bullied Hermione into seeing a rather progressive therapist. After a few sessions Hermione embraced the idea, researching both muggle and magical studies on trauma. The standard magical therapy seemed to be either an obliviate or just swallowing down the memories and the stress and the fear and never telling anyone.  There were some emerging studies though which crossed magical research with muggle methods and these showed a great deal of promise in Hermione’s opinion.

Being able to focus her mind on researching therapies had helped in and of it self.  It gave Hermione an anchor, something that made her feel like herself again. From there she not only learned how to tell her friends what she was going through, she also found ways to take control at her job and eventually she worked with the therapist to develop a plan to deal with the source of the nightmares. If she could go back to the Manor and create a new image, one where she found some control, she could use that image to draw strength to tame her nightmares. 

Her plan was based on the idea of the Riddikulus charm, replacing the image of one’s fear with one that saps the fear’s power. She wrote to Narcissa Malfoy weeks ago requesting a visit.  When the day finally came she brought Harry, as it’s unsafe to work with a boggart without a partner.  Hermione had been prepared with an image fixed in her mind of Bellatrix Lestrange in curlers and foils, getting her hair permed and highlighted and her mustache waxed, she imagined a gooey blue face mask, disposable pedicure sandals and a neon animal print spa smock.

Suddenly, it all went so horribly wrong. The very moment the boggart became Bellatrix she heard a crash and then Malfoy appeared and grabbed her and then thrust her at Harry and they fell over.  She was stunned, he was crying so hard and he, he seemed to be protecting her, she was confused and shocked and then horrified as he knelt and ripped off his shirt.  She realized he was going to take some sort of physical punishment for her.

She told Harry to nab the boggart and she moved to Draco.  She couldn’t believe the pain in his silver-grey eyes when he looked up.  She had never seen any feeling there before and suddenly she was overwhelmed by his raw emotions.  Her heart broke for him, this boy who tormented her, but all she found in her heart was forgiveness and warmth for him.  Only then did she realize what he had been saying, realize that the boggart had still been Bellatrix even in front of him. He was talking into her hair, his voice wrecked and broken. He was apologizing, and he wanted to protect her.

Hermione looked across Draco’s shoulder to his mother. Draco had started to quiet and he was leaning on Hermione heavily, wrung out by the whole ordeal. “He should lie down,” she said quietly to Narcissa.

“Yes, yes,” Narcissa said, wiping at her eyes. She put her hand to Draco’s forehead and said “sleep” softly into his ear.  She levitated Draco from the floor and took him away. Hermione still knelt on the floor and looked over to Harry who was sitting on the boggart trunk with his arms resting limply on his legs.

“What the hell just happened?” Harry said weakly.

“I didn’t think he was even here.” Hermione replied.

Harry stood and walked over to help her to her feet. “Do you still want to, um,” he waved at the trunk.

Hermione took a breath, “No, no it feels, I don’t know.”

“You sure, this may be your only chance. You know they won’t let us come back after seeing all that.” Hermione looked at him and realized he was right. If they left now they would never be allowed back, and very likely she would never see Draco or Narcissa Malfoy again. 

“I need to talk to him,” Hermione headed for the doors.

“I’ll just stay here and mind the boggart then,” Harry called after her.  Hermione ran through the hallways and up a set of stairs, finally catching sight of Narcissa’s back just as she turned a corner. 

Narcissa deposited Draco gently on his bed and put her hand to his forehead, “awaken” she said quietly.  Draco blinked his eyes open slowly, a little confused as he retuned to consciousness.  He sensed that he had had a terrible nightmare, the nightmare about Granger again.  He felt different though; he usually woke from it screaming.  He wondered for a moment if he forgot to cast the silencing spell before going to bed and if his screams had woken his mother, but then he realized he still had his shoes on.

Hermione reached the doorway, lingering there when she heard Draco’s confused voice say, “Mother?”

“It’s all right my darling.” Narcissa smoothed Draco’s hair and gave him a soft smile.  He could see she had been crying though.  He reached up and touched his face and realized he had been crying as well. He looked up and saw Granger in his doorway.  Her hair was all shining curls and waves, silhouetted around her in the light from the hall.  He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head of the dreams, but she didn’t go away.  Narcissa looked over her shoulder and saw Hermione as well, “Miss Granger, I -“

Draco sat up and put his hand on Narcissa’s arm, “Wait, wait.” He shook his head and set his feet on the ground. He walked towards Hermione, “You’re here?” He brought his hand slowly up to her face. He moved to brush her cheek with his fingers but then gasped when he actually made contact with her skin. He seemed about to withdraw his hand when she caught hold of it.

She held his hand next to her cheek as she said, “Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Draco, please let me explain. Please, please let me talk to you.” A few tears leaked from her pleading brown eyes as she implored him to understand.

 


	3. three

He swallowed, looking into her warm brown eyes.

He turned his hand gently and she released her hold of it, he cupped the side of her face.  He was struck suddenly by the realization of his huge hand next to her delicate face. Granger was so petite, it scared him that she seemed so small and fragile.  He knew she was a powerful witch, but it scared him that physically she could be so easily hurt.  He slid the pad of his thumb over the arch of her perfect cheekbone.

Of all of the things Draco Malfoy hated himself for, never being able to say the right thing to her was near the top of the list. His habit of falling into anger and cruelty when he was a child haunted him.  Each time he walked away from her he was thinking, _WHY? Why did I say that? Stupid bloody bully, striking out at the only person I ever found interesting, so tiny and pretty with her wild hair shining in the sunlight of the courtyard and I can’t handle it. Say something awful just to talk to her.  Just an arse now, a bloody bitter lonely arse can’t even talk to her._

“We have the same boggart,” she started gently, “ **exactly** the same.”

Narcissa had risen from her seat on the edge of the bed and followed Draco, giving her a good view of Draco’s shoulders tightening in the moment when he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was standing in the doorway to his bedroom with Hermione Granger while his mother watched them from two feet away.  He also realized that he was shirtless and wondered how he hadn’t noticed that before. He inhaled quickly and looked down at his chest, at his forearm, at Hermione and his mother. “I should . . . a shirt and . . . “ he trailed off as he dropped his hand from Hermione’s face quickly and went across the room and through a paneled door.

Hermione turned to Narcissa as Draco disappeared through the door to a large dressing room.  “Mrs Malfoy, please, I know the traditional thinking in magical families has been not to talk about things, but please, let me talk to him just for a moment.”

Narcissa Malfoy would do anything to help her son. She had been shocked at his reaction to the boggart of her sister and sickened to realize her son had been physically harmed.  She had no memory of him receiving any sort of punishment, and something deep within her made her wonder why.  She considered Hermione for a moment, looking into her dark eyes. 

“Miss Granger, I’ll be in the great hall with Mr Potter.  I trust you’ll follow me shortly,” Narcissa desperately hoped she was doing the right thing.

Draco emerged only moments later wearing a black shirt. He found Granger sitting on the edge of his bed and as he looked around the room his mother was nowhere in sight.

“I convinced your mother to let me speak with you alone for a moment.” She stood as she spoke.

“My mother left you alone in my bedroom?!” Draco looked more shocked by that idea than he had at the sight of his dead aunt.

Hermione had already opened her mouth to continue to but then froze, thrown off for a moment at his question. “Um, well, yes.” Her concentration broken, Hermione cocked her head to the side for a moment as she looked at him, “Are all of your clothes black?”

He looked down at his shirt, “Um, I don’t think so, I just grabbed the first clean shirt.”  He answered without thinking, so thrown off by this strange day. Draco looked around again as if Narcissa might appear at any moment.  He had never had a girl in his bedroom before, let alone been unaccompanied in it with one. 

From the time he took the dark mark at 16 Draco hadn’t allowed anyone to get close to him.  The whole experience with his parents and Voldemort taught him that any girl he let get close could be used against him as leverage. After the end of the war he hadn’t seen anyone from Hogwarts, too upset by Crabbe’s death and too unsure and too pained by even the thought of socializing.  He no longer knew how to be around people, so he tried not to be. He had taken to keeping his dealings exclusively to business endeavors, which meant his conversation partners were inevitably older and male due to his father’s hiring practices and contacts.  He was suddenly nervous for an entirely different reason.

“I . . . I have nightmares,” Hermione began, having regained her focus, “it was so awful.  I had to try to fix it.” Her wide brown eyes pleaded for him to understand as she stepped closer, “I was going to use the boggart to release my fear and, I swear I didn’t know you were here.  I have nightmares about her, about that day and what she did, what she said she would do. I’ve been able to improve so much, to find myself again. I’ve been working to make them stop and this was one of the final steps.” Hermione prayed he wouldn't mock her for revealing so much, but she felt she owed him an explanation and his reaction downstairs made her feel that something had changed in him that day as well.

Draco dropped his eyes to the floor. He realized as she spoke what had happened, it hadn’t been a nightmare.  He had walked in on Hermione with the boggart and he had reacted as he wished he had years ago on that awful day.  It actually felt good, in his dreams he was always frozen as he watched horrible things happen to her, but suddenly today he had been able to jump in, to get her out of the way before she could be hurt.

“Your boggart was the same as mine.” She continued, hoping to prompt him.

“I have nightmares as well.” He said to the floor.

Hermione reached for his hand.

“You should try it, facing her,” his gaze meet hers, “It helps.”


	4. four

Hermione and Draco walked back to the great hall in silence. Draco felt strange, he had faced his nightmare AND he had had a real conversation with Granger without offending her.  He wasn’t entirely sure either thing was actually possible.  He looked again at their hands; she hadn’t released his since she took hold of it upstairs.

While Hermione was speaking with Draco Narcissa had asked Harry if, as an Auror, he could tell if someone had been obliviated. When he said he could she had him look at her mind, she was surprised when he told her that there were a handful of times the spell had been used on her.  He couldn’t recover the memories but he could tell they were from the last years of the war, years she knew her older sister had lived at the manor.  She had just been thanking Harry for the information when Draco and Hermione returned.

“Mother, I’d like to let Miss Granger finish her task with the boggart.  She’s asked me to stay, but if you would prefer to wait outside the door-“

“No, no darling, I’ll stay right here.” Narcissa joined Draco and they stood together off to the side.  Once in place Draco nodded to Hermione who in turn nodded to Harry.

Harry opened the trunk and again Bellatrix Lestrange emerged cackling.  Before she could say anything else Hermione flicked her wand and firmly said “Riddikulus.” Suddenly Bellatrix looked like she was caught in the midst of a spa day, hair foils and all.  Hermione smiled and Harry laughed, the boggart Bellatrix looked offended.  Hermione glanced over to the Malfoys, Draco looked relieved and he was smiling slightly but Narcissa looked a little sad. 

As Harry stepped in to return the boggart to the trunk once and for all, Hermione approached Narcissa and Draco. “That’s just how she looked you know,” Narcissa said in teary, wistful voice. “Dromie and I used to follow her around as she applied potions to her hair and face and chose her dresses. We thought she was the most glamorous person in the world, going out parties and getting owls from boys . . . “

“That was all so long ago.” Narcissa shook her head, “I’m glad I got to see her like that again.” Draco put his arm around his mother’s shoulders.  She looked up at her son and patted his hand, “If you’ll excuse me, dear. I think I may pop out to see your aunt Dromeda.” Narcissa said goodbye to Harry and Hermione before leaving Draco to see their guests out.

Harry finished securing the boggart and he and Hermione were preparing to leave as well when Hermione turned to Draco, “We need to drop the boggart back at the Ministry but then we’re going to the pub. I promised to buy Harry a pint for helping me today.  Would you join us?”

“Yeah, come on Malfoy,” Harry said, “We all deserve a pint or three after today.”

Draco wasn’t sure what to do.  He had never been invited out for pints before, and he certainly never expected Potter and Granger to be the ones asking him.

“Come on, you’ve earned it.” Hermione smiled and took his wrist and pulled him into the fireplace then out into the crowded Ministry lobby.

Draco was acutely aware of people staring at him as he walked through the lobby with Potter and Granger.  He heard whispers and felt Grangers hand squeezed a little tighter.  He affected his usual arrogant demeanor as they walked but was truly relieved when they went into an empty lift.  

“It’s like that every day,” Hermione said once the doors closed, “which certainly didn’t help matters.”  Draco knew she was referring to her reaction to things from the war. Hermione had to let go of Draco’s hand to grab a handle as the lift began to move and he found he was disappointed.

The lift jerked one way and then another before stopping abruptly as the doors sprung open to reveal Ron Weasley. “Huh?” was Weasley’s eloquent reaction to finding his two best friends in a lift with Draco Malfoy.

“’Lo Ron, remember Hermione was working with the boggart today at Malfoy’s, and he was nice enough to let her.” Harry said, prompting his friend to be pleasant.

“Right yeah, Malfoy,” Ron nodded, “’Mione, how’d it go?” Ron moved into the lift and stood next to Harry.

“In the end, I think I accomplished what I was hoping to,” Hermione answered.

“Knew you could do it.  You always find a way.” Ron said with a friendly smile.

There was a moment of silence before Ron turned to Draco, “So, erm, hear the Cannons may draft a new keeper.” With that the lift devolved into talk of quidditch as Hermione rolled her eyes.

After Ron continued on his way to a meeting they signed the boggart in and made their way up to the street level to walk to a small pub.  Draco sat at a table with Harry as Hermione went to order drinks for them all.  Hermione returned with her small hands wrapped tightly around three pint glasses held together.  She set the glasses of dark beer down carefully and smiled, “Didn’t even spill,” she said proudly as she took her seat and raised her glass. “To closure!”

“To closure!” Draco and Harry repeated as they clinked their glasses to hers and each took a sip.  The liquid was bitter but smooth and cool on Draco’s tongue.

“I don’t usually drink beer, but it just seemed right this afternoon.” Hermione said as she looked at her glass.

“It’s fitting after hard work.” Harry said as he brought the glass to his mouth again.

“Thank you, both of you, for today,” she said with a grateful smile.

Draco nodded and sipped his drink in reply. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted desperately to leave because he didn’t know quite what he was doing there or how to behave, but he didn’t want to leave because . . . well he wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t want to leave.  He frowned at his beer as Harry and Hermione talked. 


	5. five

His contemplation caused him to miss whatever was being said as they all finished their drinks and Potter stood.  “Ginny will kill me if I’m late,” he pecked a kiss to Hermione’s head and offered a hand to Draco.  Draco shook it numbly.

“Good luck, Harry!” Hermione called out after Harry.

“Ginny’s got a check-up at St Mungo’s,” Hermione told Draco after Harry left.  Draco looked at her blankly and she sighed, “They’re having a baby,” as if he should have understood that in the first place.

“They’re having a baby?” Draco repeated. It was striking him suddenly that everyone was working and going to pubs and . . . living, and he realized that he hadn’t been. 

“She’s just about four months along.”

“People are having babies?” Draco felt Hermione’s hand on his again, his hand which had been resting on top of his own knee.

“When they told me I felt like they were moving and I was standing still.”  Draco looked up to see her smile at him in understanding.

She withdrew her hand as they left the table, and again he found himself disappointed.  She walked him back to the blessedly less crowded Ministry lobby and he floo’d back to the Manor. 

He sat in the library thinking, trying to understand this very odd day. People were having babies. Hermione Granger had sat on his bed.  She had touched his hand three separate times, once when it had been on his knee; all of this after he cried into her hair and she had seen him without a shirt. He thought she touched his bare shoulder but couldn’t remember how her hand felt there.

His mother and father found him sitting silently in the library when it was time for dinner hours later.

“Draco, what is this I hear about you at the Ministry today?” Draco looked up at him and blinked.   He had followed them into the dining room automatically and they were seated at the table in their usual places.

“You went out to the Ministry, darling?” Narcissa smiled; this was the first time in years that he had gone out without her prompting.

“Yes, I went with Potter and Miss Granger to return the boggart and then to a pub.” Narcissa smiled wider and Lucius looked flabbergasted.

“A pub?” Lucius said the word like it was foreign to him. He turned to look at Narcissa. One glace to his wife’s face and he promptly shut his mouth and returned his attention to his dinner.

After dinner Draco excused himself and Lucius turned to his wife again, “A pub?”

“It’s good for him to get out,” she said distractedly. “Lucius, did Bella . . . hurt Draco? Do you remember?”

“Hurt him? No, no . . .” Lucius looked alarmed.

Narcissa relayed a very abbreviated version of the day’s events; leaving out details she felt it better he not know. She did reveal that there were traces that someone had obliviated her, and that Draco harbored scars she didn’t recall him receiving.  Lucius was so stunned that Narcissa was able to capitalize on the opportunity and secure his promise that he would not interfere with their son’s social life unless Draco asked. Lucius scowled at her moments later in a mix of love, consternation and pride. 

*

Draco lay in his bed that night staring up at the ceiling.  He couldn’t stop remembering Hermione sitting on his bed.  He closed his eyes and saw her there as she rose when he returned to the room.  Again, and again he pictured her, sitting on his bed and then rising to greet him, eventually he saw her sitting there in just a lace bra and tiny knickers, waiting for him. She rose when he entered the room and in the fantasy she reached for the front of his trousers instead of his hand. He pictured her, rubbing him, her small hand circling him.  Her hand would be so soft, and she would lead him to the bed and kneel between his legs and use her mouth.  He would hold her hair up so he could see.  Just the thought of watching Hermione sucking him off did him in and he came over his hand, breathing hard.

*

Far away in her flat Hermione was preparing for bed and wondering if there would be any change in her nightmares. She met her own eyes in the mirror above the sink as she brushed her teeth, as she looked at herself she thought about Malfoy.  She found an odd twinge in her chest when she remembered how he held on to her so tightly.


	6. six

Draco came down to breakfast in the morning having had one of the first decent nights of sleep he could remember since long before the war.  He was slightly embarrassed to think that wanking like a teenager might be the cause.

He kissed his mother’s cheek in greeting, as usual, sat in his usual chair, drank his usual cup of tea, and was served his usual meal while he read the paper, exactly as usual.   After he walked to the study and wished his father a good day at the office he sat down at the large desk, realizing he felt uncomfortable suddenly.  His routine didn’t feel right anymore.  He paced around the study, fidgeted at the window, picked up parchment and set it down again.

He wanted to go out, but he had nowhere he needed to go and no one to go with.  How should he choose where to go? What if he didn’t like being wherever he went once he got there?  If he found a companion would they understand? Granger would understand.

Could he owl Granger? Should he owl Granger? No, that didn’t seem right. They aren’t friends; he doesn’t have friends anymore.  He wondered how he hadn’t known until today that he was lonely.  Did he want to talk to anyone from school, anyone from his old house?  No, he wanted to see Granger, just Granger.

He started puzzling on how he could see her again. An hour later he realized what he was doing, plotting and planning to create a situation where he could run in to her.  It felt wonderful.

*

The intensity of Hermione’s nightmare had lessened, but the dream was still there.  It had apparently incorporated her confusion regarding the previous day as it now included Malfoy coming in to save her but then somehow they all sat down to a formal tea.  She groaned when it was time to get up, cursing her subconscious and swearing not to stay up late watching Downton Abbey ever again.

She let the back of her mind continue to consider him as she got ready and headed out to work.  She came to the conclusion as she walked into the Ministry that she needed to see him again.  He had held her and cried as he promised to keep her safe; somehow seeing him that way made her feel . . . she wasn’t sure, but something was different.

One thing she knew was that he needed a friend. The way he looked at her yesterday told her that he had no one to talk to.  The penny finally dropped and she realized he hadn't been thinking, hadn't known it was a boggart, but had been willing, without hesitation, to offer himself for her safety.  The thing nagging at her finally became clear, she needed to protect him too. Just as she had answered his insults when they were children she would answer his gallant behavior now. She needed to offer him her friendship, and she would start right away. 

*

Draco’s attention was taken from his now rather complex plans when an owl tapped at the window.  He had to read the message four times before it sunk in.

_D. Malfoy,_

_Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?_

_-H. Granger_

He kept looking from the small note to his stack of parchments and back again.  He had pages filled with lists and notes and plans for research into her schedule, behavioral diagrams and maps of contingencies and . . . he sank down to his chair. _She’s so far ahead_ , he thought.

He replied accepting her invitation immediately. He smiled and attacked revising his plans with vigor. He needed to be sure he knew what she liked and what he should talk to her about, after all.


	7. seven

The following day Draco was pacing in front of Hermione’s building.  He had found himself sorely lacking in useful contacts when it came to finding out more about her.  His former friends from their year had all been Slytherin, none of them were still friendly with him and none would be in her circles anyway.  The closest he had gotten was a third degree connection to one of her former supervisors. He wanted so badly to be better prepared than he was. He kept thinking he should cancel, but he didn’t actually want to cancel. He grew more and more frustrated, unsure of what to do next, getting lost in his anger at the situation.

That’s how Hermione found him.  When he was 10 minutes late she had looked out the window and caught sight of him, clad all in black as usual, running his hand through his hair and pacing angrily in front of her building.  She went out to meet him and found he was also muttering to himself.

“Draco? Did you want to come in?”

He looked up at her abruptly and for just a moment she saw the boy she knew from school.  He looked angry, so ready to fight, to cut her with his words. Her soft smile dropped and her shoulders closed in as she took a step back towards the door. She wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.  _Maybe that moment at his house was a one-off_ , she thought.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, clearly frustrated.

Hermione inhaled deeply and offered him her hand. “One step at a time,” she said gently.

He knew he had scared her, but she didn’t run away, didn’t lash back at him.  When she held out her hand he was so grateful he nearly cried.  He barely heard her as he followed her into the entry and up the stairs to her flat.  She was saying something about cooking and people gawking when she went out.

“. . . so I hope you don’t mind,” she finished as they reached her door.

She walked him into the flat, past pictures of her with Potter or Weasley, or Potter and Weasley, her with girl-Weasley, her with more Weasleys.  There were some still images with a much younger Hermione and people he remembered as her parents.

Hermione tugged him into her small kitchen and sat him down at the table.  She moved gracefully about the kitchen as she brought food to the table, chatting all the while.  He started to be able to focus on her voice, she was telling him she liked this old building and liked her neighborhood even though it wasn’t fashionable anymore.

Eventually he must have started answering because three hours later they were sitting on her sofa and Hermione was laughing so hard she had tears running down her face as he told her a story about the time Zabini’s mother had too much to drink at his parent’s annual holiday party and decided she was going to go after Snape as husband number nine.  They’d gone on talking in the same vein for some time and it was wonderful. Impossibly, he was relaxed.  He even started teasing her a little, and he was shocked beyond belief when she flirted at him in reply.  His shock must have shown all over his face because she dissolved into giggles once again.

He hasn’t had this much fun in . . . basically ever.  Hermione was witty and smart and he recalled all of the reasons he used to get so angry that they couldn’t be friends.  The thought was sobering.  He looked at her, with her sparkling brown eyes and her open smile, and he realized he had never seen that smile directed at him before despite all of his desire that it would be.  “You’re being so nice to me,” he really didn’t mean to say it so bluntly.

She looked confused for a moment, and then a bit sad. “You’re being nice to me as well.” She paused, meeting his eyes before she continued, “it’s quite enjoyable, the two of us getting along.”

Draco swallowed, thinking that if he had the courage to stand up to his aunt (even if she wasn’t real) he had the courage to say this, “I always wanted us to.”

He saw the surprise register as a flash across her eyes, “You . . .?”

He looked down, “you were always so smart,” he mumbled.

And just like that he was sure he had ruined it, he felt hot and uncomfortable.  He was so embarrassed he abruptly stood to leave, making a flimsy excuse about work. He barely heard “Draco wait,” from behind him as he stumbled over some silly end table on his way to the front door.

Before he could get the door open one small hand came from behind him and pressed flat, holding it closed. “Why do you want leave?” He dropped his forehead to the door, not ready to turn around.

“I wanted to go before you sent me away.” _Can’t even manage the pain in my chest imagining you sending me away, the real thing would have killed me_ , he thought.

“I want you to stay.” She pressed against his back and wrapped her arms around his chest, tucking her face between his shoulder blades and repeating, “I want you to stay.”

He had no idea how long they stood like that. Her tiny arms felt so good wrapped around him; it felt so good just being held.

“I wish we had been friends,” he heard her voice muffled against his back. She squeezed him tighter for a few moments before releasing her hold and turning him by his shoulders, “Do you want to be friends now?”  Her big warm brown eyes were so vulnerable, the look on her face so like when she was just a girl and he saw her standing on the train for the first time.

Draco reached one hand up to brush his fingers over her cheek. His breath shuddered when she leaned into his fingers and closed her eyes.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Her smile bloomed first, it became so bright he couldn’t help but return it before she even opened her eyes.

“Good.”


	8. eight

No previous relationships or associations served to prepare Draco for being friends with Hermione.  As always, once she committed she was relentless, and pledging herself to being Draco’s friend was something she handled no differently.  She refused to let him pull back into his former shell and after a few months he had stopped trying.  He became more and more confident as he learned from her how to rejoin the world.  His mother encouraged their outings from the beginning, and he had been shocked when his father didn’t discourage them or behave impolitely towards Hermione.

Hermione made sure he also spent time with Harry and all of the Weasleys, she brought him to lectures on topics she knew he enjoyed, she made him try new restaurants, she leant him books, unerringly finding topics or authors he would enjoy, she discerned his taste in music and some of their recent outings were to concerts.  The biggest shock was that she taught him the value of volunteering, how being of service to others helped to heal another piece of himself. She was unlike anyone he had ever known. 

For her part, Hermione enjoyed working to bring him out of his shell, and she was thrilled to find they liked so many of the same things. The more time she spent with Draco the less often she had nightmares, probably because she had started having the most erotic dreams about him. She knew she might be overdoing it, trying to spend too much time with him, but he didn’t seem to mind. So, she kept making more plans as an excuse to be near him, not that she didn’t genuinely enjoy his company, but she also craved it.

Draco also found himself more and more affected by her presence.  He had barely noticed the toll stress had taken on his libido, but now that the lingering effects of those stressors were lifting away he definitely noticed it returning. He was suddenly so aware that he hadn’t been with a girl in years, since before his father was sent to Azkaban, before Voldemort came to live in their house and made it hell. Now, suddenly an adult, he felt out of his depth, unpracticed and clumsy, worse than a virgin.

It didn’t help that Draco had been fascinated with Hermione for as long as he had known her.  From the first time he ever saw her on the train when she was trying to find Longbottom’s toad he had been curious about the girl with wild hair and bright eyes.  He had been so disappointed when she went to a different house, even more so as time went on and it became clear they could never be friends.

He had taken so much of his anger at the situation out on her.  He was mad at her for being smart, for being interesting, and for being off limits. She had always been so open about her intellect and interests while he had always kept his concealed (as he had been taught), so he was the one who knew all along what he had been missing. Now he emerged from the fog of living like a hermit with the joy of finally getting to talk to her, to have her smile, her time, her mind all directed at him as he had always wished.

It had been nearly six months since Draco had lunch at Hermione’s flat and he was due to meet her there later that evening. He was finishing dinner with his parents before heading to Hermione’s when his father mentioned his old marriage contract.  Draco thought it had been settled long ago, after the war the girl he had been contracted with disclosed that she was in love with someone else. He had released her immediately. He was living in a fog, not to mention he had no special interest in her, and if she loved someone else that much then he knew he didn’t want to be in the marriage anyway.  He hadn’t given it another thought. It seemed that there had been some interest in him recently as he was seen out and about (with Hermione). He told his father that he wasn’t interested and would make his own plans, which Lucius accepted easily.  Draco didn’t notice the corner of his father’s lip curl, or his mother keeping her eye on their exchange.

After Draco left Lucius smirked at Narcissa, “I can’t interfere but you can use me to do so?”

“They needed a push,” Narcissa replied as she sipped her evening tea.

*

Draco’s mind was distracted when he arrived at Hermione’s flat. She noticed immediately, of course, and offered him a drink.  She took a seat across from him and asked what was wrong.  Draco replied, still in a stupor, “My father brought up my old marriage contract today, seems there’s new interest now that I actually leave the house.“

“Oh, oh I see . . . “ Hermione had heard of contracts among pure blood families, a handful of their old class mates had married that way, but as Draco was older she thought this was all settled and done for him. She was terribly upset to realize it wasn’t. 

Draco saw her whole body closing in as if to protect her. It was so severe he was snapped back to the present.  He quickly moved to the sofa next to her, “Hermione . . . “

Her voice was very soft as she said, “I understand, you’re moving on, you’ll want a wife and this is how your circle-“

“No.” He pulled her into his arms.

“You don’t want a wife?”

“Someday, not like that.”

“I thought you were going to say you couldn’t spend time with me anymore.” He could see the start of tears shining in her eyes.

“Never.” He held her tightly until she pulled back, her arms still around his neck as she looked at him.

Her lips were parted slightly; so pink and inviting. He had no idea what possessed him to finally lean in to kiss her.  Maybe it was seeing how much she valued their friendship; maybe it was the thought of marriage and realizing that she was the only woman he thought about. He slowly, softly, touched his lips to hers, savoring every moment.

They kissed softly, kisses becoming firmer, deeper and wetter as time slipped by.  She moved onto his lap when the growing ache between her legs became too much, desire welling up in her chest and throat matching the path of her skins red flush.

“You have done this before?”  Hermione had deduced long ago, amid late night talks about the war that Draco hadn’t been with anyone since some time before the original incident at his house.  She wasn’t sure about before.

“Honestly?  Yes, but not for a very, very long time.”  He had been with girls fifth year, the last year he had been himself. His father had been able to shield him from so much, and he had been free that year for the last time, until Hermione.

“Maybe, if it’s been a long time . . . “ her eyes kept flicking down to his lap.

“Huh?” He was certain that if she started moving on his lap that he would go off like a bloody teenager.

“Well, I’ve read that sometimes it’s best for men to, erm, take the edge off.”

“What on earth are you reading, Granger?”

She laughed at him as she reached for his belt, unfastening it as she slid to her knees in front of him.  Draco’s eyes looked ready to burst from his head. This could not possibly be happening. 

She opened his trousers and tugged them and his pants down just enough for his weeping erection to spring free.  She looked up at him and with a very evil smirk she moved his hands into her hair and licked her lips.

The sound that escaped as she lowered her mouth to lick at him was one he would have been embarrassed for if he weren’t so distracted.  He refused to blink, letting his widened eyes dry as he watched her wrap her pink tongue around the head of his prick before it disappeared into the warm wetness of her mouth.  A great gasp escaped him and her hand moved to stroke his hard shaft.  It took only moments and then he was coming, his eyes clamping shut and white exploding behind them as she continued sucking and pumping and swirling until he collapsed back.  She stopped just as he became too sensitive, just at that edge of prolonged pleasure and too much.

He became aware that he was wheezing as he opened his eyes to look at her.  She was resting her chin on his knee and looking up at him with a devilish smile, her hands softly stroking his bare hips.


	9. nine

Hermione couldn’t help the great pleasure she took from completely unraveling Draco Malfoy.  He was so beautiful when he was unguarded.  Every façade of his dropped away when she slid to her knees.  The sounds he made were animalistic, it was sexy and haunting to experience, telling of how much he needed release.  She stroked her hands over his milky skin, stretched tight over bone and muscle at his hips, and waited for him to recover. 

When he caught his breathe and met her eyes she smiled. He tried to pull her up to him but she pulled back and brought them both to standing. 

“Bed” she said wetly into his mouth before kissing him, hoping he could taste himself on her tongue.  She grasped one of his hands as he held his trousers up with the other and pulled him into her bedroom.  She sat him on the bed and immediately drew her jumper over her head.

He made a high-pitched noise again which she took as approval of her lace bra.  She shoved her skirt down to the floor as well and stood before him, letting him take in the matching lace knickers.  She stepped forward and started to undress him, pushing his jacket down and unbuttoning his shirt.  She left his shirt open and dropped down to remove his shoes and socks, pulling off his trousers and pants as well, running her hands over his muscular legs before standing. 

As she worked his clothes off his hands ran lightly over any part of her he could reach, her hair, her cheeks, her stomach, her arms. He was so light and gentle. She moved to his lap to push his shirt off as well but he hesitated once it reached his elbows. She kissed his face, his cheeks and his jaw, whispering, “it’s ok, shhhh.” She grasped his hand and pulled the shirt off, kissing his palms as they slipped out of the sleeves.

She held his hands up to her face, still kissing them and his fingers, pressing them against her face and in turn running one or the other down her neck.  She was so lost in worshipping his hands she didn’t even notice her hips lifting and rolling until he found his voice.

“Hermione, Hermione, Hermione,” he chanted, throat dry and his voice rasping and raw.

“Mmmmm, Draco, want you.” She ground against him a little harder.  He could feel she was wet as she moved and he slid one hand away to hold her hip as he bent his knees and thrust against her, making her moan.  She moved to hold on to his shoulders and his other hand slid to cup her breast, toying with her nipple through the lace, the sensation like lightening, making her clit throb.

“I’ve thought about this, about riding your hard cock,” Draco gasped again in response, he felt himself hardening, her words moved in his veins like electricity.

“FuckYesHermione!” The words burst from his mouth.

She smirked wickedly, “You like me thinking about you, lying in bed alone with my fingers on my clit,”

Draco answered with a high “Gnahhhhhhhh.”

“Or you like hearing how I want your cock, want to feel it hard inside of me, stretching me,” she felt his hand slid from her hip to her ass, pulling her against him.  His other hand pulled at the material of her bra wildly.  She laughed and unfastened it, throwing it over her shoulder.

His hands moved to her bare tits, rolling and pulling the nipples, cradling the weight of each breast.  He curled up and took one in his mouth, suckling and worrying it as he played with the other with his fingers. One of his large hands drifted to her back, sliding down, his long fingers playing with the lace of her knickers, following the thin band of material between her cheeks and stretching over her core.  He made more of those delicious uncontrollable noises around her nipple as he felt how wet she was. 

He lifted her and settled her gently on her back, moving himself to his knees next to her and sliding his hands under the band of her knickers before pushing them down her legs.  He was so reverent and loving in touching her, the look on his unguarded face like he couldn’t believe this was even happening. His hands moved over her hips, her belly and her breasts as she writhed, her hands running up and down his forearms when they were within reach.

She lifted one leg and trailed the arch of her foot over his shin and up his thigh.  He looked up to her face to find her smiling playfully at him.  She slid her hand over his and then moved both of their hands to press between her legs, “ahhhh, oh Draco, you have such lovely hands,” her voice was breathy as he settled beside her, kissing her jaw and down her neck as he pressed one long finger into her.  He moaned against her skin as he felt the wetness and heat of her pussy.

“Ohh yes, yes, Draco, mmm,” she said as her hips started moving, riding his hand as he added a second finger.  She slid a hand down, taking his hard shaft and pumping, “please, please, please.”

Draco had been with a few girls at school, but it was nothing like this.  It had been fumbling, half clothed, one eye out for the prefects, never sure how far he was allowed to go.  He never pushed, as much of an arrogant prat as he was when he was younger he had been raised with some manners and he would never, never push a girl further than she wanted to go.  But those had all been girls, unsure and experimenting.  This, with Hermione, this was being with a woman.  She wanted him, she wasn’t shy or quiet or scared, and it was brilliant!

He shifted to lie between her legs but instead of sheathing himself he slid lower, stopping to lick and suck for a moment at her tits before he moved down.  He craned his neck and his eyes to watch her as he lowered his face and licked upwards from where his fingers disappeared into her.

“Ahhhh, Oh, yes” she threw her head back. He couldn’t see her face but he could see her raise one hand to play with her breast as her other hand came down again, spreading herself open and one slim finger circled the red wrinkled hood over her clitoris.  He added his tongue, following behind her finger, when she sped up so did he, when she pulled the little hood back he took the tiny button in his mouth and played with it with his tongue and lips.  His fingers crooked inside of her, rubbing, and he felt her get tighter and tighter around them.  She was gasping and begging and swearing, and then suddenly her whole body convulsed and her thighs trapped him, he felt her pulsing against his hand. He rode it out, gentling his touch as she relaxed again.

He withdrew his fingers carefully but stayed between her legs, kissing her thighs.  She laughed and squeezed her legs around him, making him smile up at her. He was inwardly preening a bit that he had made her come, recalling the long forgotten sensation of giving a girl an orgasm which always made him feel extremely clever.  He kissed his way back up her body as she laughed softly, nipping at her belly to tickle her, nosing at a breast, kissing all around her face before settling at her mouth for one long deep kiss.

“In my dirtiest fantasies I never dared hope that you’d be so wanton.” He said before kissing her again.

“Hmmmm,” she hummed into the kiss, “oh I hoped all along that you’d be good at that,” she kissed him again, “and that you’d have such a lovely hard cock for me,” she said it as she reached between them and grasped him again.  Her words and her touch made him suck in his breathe and moan.

“Gods, Hermione, yes, more,” he gasped.

“More? Did you feel how wet I got for you, I’m so ready for you to fuck me.” She moved her hips and her hand, lining him up and then with a hand to his bum she pushed him to thrust into her.  For a long moment he couldn’t move, she felt so amazing.  He didn’t think this was a feeling a man could forget, but remembering had dulled his idea, not to mention none of the girls he had been with in his teenaged fumbling was Hermione.

His eyes had squeezed shut when he entered her; he opened them to find her watching him, still smiling.  Her hands and hips prompting him to move. He started slowly but she felt so fantastic and she was talking and moaning and laughing and begging him to go harder.  He moved faster, gave her more, she did the most amazing thing lifting her leg onto his shoulder and suddenly he was deeper, the back of her thigh against his chest rubbing like silk.

Hermione watched him, firey lines of pleasure racing through her and winding tight in her low belly and in her cunt. Draco was wreaked, sweaty hair at his temples, his skin gone pink, face twisting in pleasure, mouth open and gasping, whining. 

“Beautiful man, Draco, yes, YES,” she pumped her hips and clenched around him, “Come in me, love, oh yes, fuck, yes, theretherethere!” Hermione’s shoulders lifted off the bed as her body curved and pleasure shot through her, she collapsed back feeling liquid, laughing again.

Draco yelped at the sensation, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, she was suddenly wetter and hotter and tighter and pulsing and then he was coming, his body out of control, thrusting on it’s own, and he was shouting and nearly crying, and then he found himself on top of her, spent.  Her hands gliding down his back, cradling the back of his head and smoothing his damp hair, he knew he had lost a few moments.

He raised his head and smiled tiredly at her, “Thank you.”

She laughed at him and kissed his cheeks.

 


	10. ten

Draco woke the following morning early. The sunlight was still soft and almost blue as it filtered in through the curtains. He was confused at first but was warm and rested and happy.  He shifted and felt the most wonderful sensation of smooth warm skin against his own bare body.  Hermione. He turned toward her and buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled.

A giggled “Good morning,” came in reply, half muffled by her pillow.

“Good morning,” Draco replied, his nose burrowing through her hair and his lips leaving light kisses against her skin.

Hermione laughed again and turned around to face him, letting her fingertips slide over his face, his perfect cheekbones and down his lean chest.  She gave him a sweet kiss.  He felt her roaming fingers encounter some of the more prominent lines of his scars and he closed his eyes and asked softly, “Do they bother you?”

“Do mine bother you?” she responded.

Draco’s eyes shot open, “Your . . . ?” He looked at her and scanned downwards from her face, he noticed for the first time that she had the thin lines of faded scars on the tanned skin of her chest, a few snaking out onto her breasts.  He hadn’t even noticed them before.

“Honestly,” she laughed loudly at the confusion that showed so plainly on his face, making her breasts bounce delightfully and making Draco smile.

Draco raised his hand to caress one bouncing breast, “well, they are perfect.” 

Hermione let her fingers drift to the ridges of muscle along his stomach, “I quite fancy the way you look as well,” she said as she kissed him lightly again. 

“I love the way you are in bed.” He said, looking into her soft brown eyes.

“And I love the way you are in bed.” She smiled at him.

“I love that you’re so smart, and so brave.” He cupped her jaw, running his thumb over her cheek.

“I love that you’re clever, and loyal, and secretly very funny.” She pressed her hand to his chest just over his heart.

“I love that you’re kind and forgiving.”

“I love that you feel things so deeply, and that you’re so incredibly strong.“

“I love you.” He said as he leaned in to kiss her.

“I love you, too.” She said as she pulled him in for another.

*

Much later in the day Draco finally returned to the Manor.

“We were beginning to wonder if you would ever come back,” his father said from his chair in the study.  Lucius was hidden from the waist up by that day’s paper. 

“Hello darling.” He would swear his mother was smirking as Draco greeted her with a kiss to her cheek, “I take it we’ll be seeing even more of Miss Granger.”

“Umm, hello mother, father, yes, I think . . .” Draco flushed; he had hoped to avoid his parents, assuming they would be in the library at this time of day.

“Lovely, you must bring her for dinner on Thursday, your father has those potions people coming and I remember you saying she was quite adept in that subject.  She’ll round out the table perfectly.”  His mother had resumed her seat and was making notes in her agenda. She looked up at him briefly to say, “do tidy up before dinner, darling,” before her eyes returned to the page in front of her.

Draco left the study quickly, trying not to look like he was rushing or embarrassed at being caught coming home in the late afternoon wearing the same clothing from the previous day.  He still couldn’t quite believe that his parents accepted his association with Hermione as friends, let alone as more. He hadn’t questioned their attitude previously but as he made his way to his room to change he started making plans to find out why they were so accommodating.


	11. eleven

Over the next month Hermione found herself fully and properly romanced.  Draco sent her notes and brought flowers so often her flat was likely to give visitors an allergy attack.  She felt like she was living in an old movie the night he sent her a gown and took her dancing, real old-fashioned dancing. 

At the end of the evening they sat at a small table on the balcony of the most exclusive restaurant in wizarding England as Hermione tried to find a way to ask him what he was up to without making him feel self-conscious. She glanced around, there were no other tables in the large expanse so she assumed Draco had secured the entire outdoor space for the evening.

“Yes, I made sure we’re the only ones out here tonight,” Draco said as he set his wine glass aside on the table.

Hermione huffed, “oh blast your ability to read me.” Draco just smirked at her.

Draco considered her, cataloging her reactions to the entire evening, “No one has ever courted you?” he finally asked, a bit confused.

“Well, for a long time I wasn’t quite welcoming to anyone getting too close,” Hermione cast her gaze down, “but I also don’t think anyone **courts** quite like you, Malfoy.” She raised her eyes to meet his as she finished.

“Is it . . . alright?” He looked so young and vulnerable as he asked.

“Alright!?” Hermione went around the small table and sat on Draco’s lap, caressing his face with her small hand. “It’s a dream. Is that what all of this is? Courting?”  Draco nodded, rubbing his check against her hand. “Well it’s fantastic.” Hermione sweetly kissed his forehead before hanging back with her arms around his neck, “And you’re buttering me up for something, so let’s hear it.”

Draco looked at her, tried to feign shock before finally giving up when it became clear she wasn’t buying it.  “Aren’t you clever, Granger?”

Hermione just smiled brilliantly at him.

“Oh alright.” He hiked her up on his lap, “I need your help.”

“You know I’ll help you with anything. You don’t have to give me dresses or take me dancing. I would do anything for you,” she said sincerely as she swung her feet.  “But I do like the dress, and the dancing.”

“You look amazing in the dress,” he kissed her quickly, “and I will take you dancing every night if you like.” He kissed her again and smiled as he realized that he had already known in his heart that she would help him with anything he ever asked, and that the elaborate evening had been for his pleasure just as much as hers. 

“Focus, Malfoy,” she teased, “what’s this help you’re looking for?”

“Right. I’m trying to get to the bottom of something with my parents, and I need your help to do it.” She had dropped her teasing smile and was regarding him intently, “As happy as I am that they’ve accepted our relationship, it just doesn’t make sense that they did so without a fight. I need to know what they’re up to, and if it’s something . . . but I don’t think my mother would . . . I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want whatever they’re doing to damage how you feel for me-“

Hermione silenced his growing anxiety with a kiss, “Nothing will change my feelings for you.  I love you, Draco, you know I love you.”

“I know,” he said quietly, “I love you.”

Hermione kissed him again, “I have a theory about things with your parents.”  Hermione took a deep breath and settled back a bit on his lap.  “We’ve never talked about this, but the day I came to your house with Harry and the boggart, when you . . . found us there, you took your shirt off and knelt for-“

“Punishment,” Draco finished for her, his hands on Hermione’s hips prompted her to stand as he stood as well. He walked to the balcony railing and took a deep breath.  He and Hermione had talked vaguely about that period of his life, but he had never discussed the specifics of how his body came to be so scarred.

Hermione stood a short distance away, giving him the moment she knew he needed.

“What haven’t we talked about?” He asked over his shoulder.

She came to stand beside him, “You were holding me,” she put her hand over his on the balcony railing.  “Your mother was there and she was stroking your back and she kept repeating ‘I didn’t know’ . . . do you remember?” Draco shook his head, no.

“I don’t know if she told you, but while I was talking to you in your room your mother was talking to Harry.  I don’t know all of the details, but your mother asked Harry if she had any trace of memory loss from obliviation, and I believe Harry found that she had.”  Hermione moved close to his side so that her body was flush against his arm, “Draco, I think your parents didn’t know about . . . your punishments, their memories were removed.  And your mother has made a few comments, and I, I think they, well your mother, accepts me because she feels I might have a role in helping to bring your happiness back.”

“You are my happiness,” he said as he put his arm around her and nuzzled behind her ear.  The scent of her hair and her perfume and lotion all combined there and it calmed him.  He loved the scent of her, the feel of her body against his, the tickle of her curls against his cheek. “I wanted to know you from the first time I saw you helping look for a lost toad.  Finally having you in my life gave me more happiness than I have ever known.  You brought me back to life, and showed me there could be a life worth coming back for. Your love is the greatest gift, and I will work every day to deserve it.”

“Oh Draco,” Hermione felt tears coming to her eyes as she melted against him.

“Shhh, no tears.” He said softly.

“I love you,” her watery reply made him hold her a little tighter and rock her gently.  He slowly moved, swayed with her a little more, and a little more. He sang to her softly and soon they were dancing again, pressed tightly together, kissing on the balcony under the stars.

*

Draco found the opportunity to speak with his mother a few weeks later.  He was sure that if he tried any sort of subterfuge his mother would see through it, but he knew that if he approached her honestly she could never refuse him. Narcissa was drinking tea as she reviewed notes for the upcoming renovations she was planning for the manor when Draco approached her in the library.

“Hello, mother.  May I join you?” He pecked her cheek and seated himself in the chair nearest his mother.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my darling?” Narcissa poured a cup of tea for Draco from the large silver pot on the tray.

“I was hoping to speak with you regarding my relationship with Miss Granger.” Draco sipped the tea and let his mother assess him.

“A young man doesn’t usually come to his mother for relationship advice.” Narcissa finally said.

“This young man knows his mother is a good deal smarter than he is.” Draco smirked at her.

“Flatterer.” Narcissa laughed, “What are you up to?”

“I am hoping to figure out why my parents are so accepting of the woman I love.”

“She’s a lovely young woman, and a good match for you.”

“And she’s muggleborn.”

“pish” Narcissa waved a hand in the air, dismissing his statement.

“Mother,” Draco set his cup aside and reached for Narcissa’s hand as he looked directly into her eyes, “How much do you remember of what happened here during the war, after Hermione and Potter and the rest got away?”

“Oh my darling.”  Narcissa paused to stem the tears suddenly pricking her eyes, and to swallow lump threatening to close her throat. She held Draco’s hand tightly. “Darling, your father and I have been working to recover the memories. We have at least been able to determine who obliviated us.  It was the dark lord . . . oh darling, I didn’t want to make you have to tell me . . . I should have protected you, if only I had let your father send you away to that other school . . . “

Draco shook his head, “No, if I had been sent away I never would have met Hermione.”  Draco paused letting their emotions start to calm before adding softly, “I’m going to marry her, mother.”

“Does Miss Granger know this?” Narcissa asked.

Draco was looking down at their clasped hands, he had a small smile and he laughed very softly before he replied, “Probably. Though, I haven’t asked yet.  She’s always a step ahead, usually ten steps ahead.”

Narcissa smiled at him and stroked her hand over his hair as she had when he was a child, “My darling boy, this is why we accept her.”

“Not because you feel sorry for things you think may be in your lost memories from the war?”  Draco asked

“Your father and I have so much we’re sorry for, my darling, but that isn’t why we accept Miss Granger.  Her effect on you has been remarkable; your father and I have never seen you so happy. While we are grateful to her for giving you back to us, we welcome her to our family because she’s right for you.”

“Thank you, mother.” Draco said as he kissed Narcissa’s cheek.

“Now my darling, I was thinking your master suite with your new wife would be in the east wing.  I thought it might be nice for you and the new Mrs Malfoy to overlook the rose gardens.”  Narcissa smiled at him and smoothed her hand over the plans in front of her.


	12. twelve

Draco came through the floo and into Hermione’s flat just in time to hear a clatter of pots and pans and some very inventive swearing. He smiled as he crossed the room and draped himself against the doorframe to Hermione’s small kitchen. “Such language! You’ve quite the filthy mouth, Miss Granger. Tsk, tsk.”

Hermione turned from her place crouched on the floor where she held an assorted armful of pans, pots and lids.  She blew a stray curl out of her eyes as she took in Draco’s smiling face.  “A gentleman would get down here and help me, Malfoy.  And as I recall you’ve quite the fetish for this filthy mouth, “ she teased back.

Draco knelt to help her, still smiling. “That I do,” he said as he kissed her before taking the stack of cookware from her arms.  “And shall I remain a gentleman all evening?” he teased.

Hermione took advantage of her freed arms to grab him by the shoulders. “Absolutely not,” she said as she kissed him, toppling them both to the kitchen floor. They laughed and kissed lazily on the kitchen floor until the arrival of the Potters and Ron and his latest girlfriend interrupted them. They ended up ordering take-away for the long evening of stories and laughter. 

As Hermione settled into his arms later that night Draco finally remembered to tell her about his conversation with Narcissa. “I asked my mother if it was true, if they accepted you because you showed me how to be happy.  She told me they realized what I already knew. “

“Wha’s that?” she mumbled sleepily. Her eyes were closed and he felt her body start to gain the heaviness of sleep.

“You’re perfect.  I’ve known it all along, s’why I was always such a grumpy little bastard. Probably the last time I’ll ever know anything first . . .” he trailed off into sleep.

*

Draco woke the following morning and smiled. He stretched and enjoyed the slide of his bare skin against Hermione’s before burying his face in her hair and kissing her neck, as was his new morning custom.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Hermione smiled into her pillow and wiggled against him.  She felt him already hard against her hip.  “What is it with men and the morning? Honestly.” Hermione laughed as she rolled onto her belly and lifted her bum up, wiggling it at him again.

Draco slid the sheets down and then smoothed his hands up over her.  Her skin was warm from sleep and so smooth.  “What are you . . .?”

“That’s an invitation. ‘m still sleepy, want you anyway.”  She wiggled again.

_Well this is new_ , Draco thought.  He gingerly moved to his knees.

“Hermione?” His voice squeaked a bit, embarrassingly.

“Mmm, dreamt about you.” Her face was turned to the side, still half in the pillow but he could tell her hand was moving underneath. _Shit! She’s touching herself_ ; he hardened further.

He ran his hands over the curve of her bum, letting his thumbs slide lower between where they encountered the slick moisture peaking back from between her legs.  He gently slid his hands closer, letting his digits slide further between her lips.  He slid them through the slickness and spread his fingers a bit, she was glistening and pink and starting to squirm under him, little breathy gasps coming from her mouth, and “mmm, yes, now, yes.”

He positioned the head of his cock, already leaking, running it through her slickness and moaning at the feeling.  When he slid it down near her entrance she shifted her hips back and the head slid into her.  She was impossibly tight like this and he knew that he would be embarrassingly fast. At the moment he didn’t have the brainpower left to care.

“Ohhhh, love,” he said as he laid himself over her, held up by his arms but with her silken skin rubbing against his chest and belly as he slid in until her bum was pressing against him and she gasped, “Oh Draco yes!” They moved together slowly, her hand working under her until she came, a sensation so pleasurable he thought he could happily die in that moment as she squeezed a quaking orgasm out of him as well.

He collapsed to the side, pulling her back tight against his chest, panting, “You’re amazing.”

“Lovely way to wake up,” She laughed and he joined her.

He held her contentedly, running his hand over her wild hair and tracing his fingers over the freckles here and there on her skin. “Hermione,” he started, curious but a little shy to ask, “do all girls like . . . sex, this much?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been with a girl,” she reached back and teasingly pinched his hip and laughed softly, “but I certainly do.”

“Ohhhhh,” Draco groaned and burrowed his face into her hair again, “that is quite an image.”

“Don’t you get too attached to that image, I only want one person in this bed besides me.” She reached behind her again to tickle his side.

“You know I only want you. I will only ever want you, for the rest of my life.” He smiled and held her against him.

“I’ll only ever want you,” she whispered into his neck.

Draco held her tight and smiled.  Hermione could feel his pulse starting to race and she pulled back to look at his face.  “Draco, are you alright?”

“I’m . . . I . . . how do you feel about rose gardens?” He had let every piece of his protective façade drop as his light grey eyes revealed every emotion.  Hermione smiled and kissed him before she snuggled back into his arms.

“I would say yes . . . to a rose garden,” she said. Draco held her tighter; he closed his eyes and smiled so widely his cheeks started to cramp.


End file.
